


On Second Thought

by keelywolfe



Series: Synonyms [6]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Feels, M/M, all the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10037597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Robbie does know how to make a promise. He even knows how to keep them.





	

* * *

There wasn't any particular reason that Robbie had spent years sleeping in a chair. More than anything, it was a simple habit. When you stayed up late tinkering on your latest invention or when sleep was elusive and you were wont to wander around in the wee hours, eyes bloodshot and feet dragging, you became accustomed to dropping into the first available place. 

Beds seemed like more effort than they were worth and Robbie would probably still feel that way, if it weren't for his very recent acquirement of something (someone) to sleep _with_. 

He did wake up a few times, but somehow it was easier to just curl back up against the warm length of Sportacus next to him than bothering to get up. Drape an arm over him and bask in the heat that he gave off, like a compact Elven furnace, and drift back to sleep. 

The last time Robbie woke was different, and he frowned, eyes still closed, as he tried to figure out why. Instead of beneath the blankets next to him, Robbie decided sleepily, Sportacus was sitting on the edge of the bed, taking all his lovely warmth with him. 

Gently, Sportacus nuzzled at his chin, "I'm sorry for waking you, I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."

"You have to leave?" Robbie said fuzzily.

"I suppose I don't _have_ to but I'm starving," he confessed, muffled a soft laugh against Robbie's neck. "I missed supper and I don't think anything you have would do me much good."

"Is that all," Robbie yawned. "There're apples in the kitchen." Or what passed as his kitchen. Whatever, they were in a bowl, they would be hard to miss. He snuggled back into his pillow, tugging the blankets back up.

That was met with silence but not like Sportacus left, more of a pregnant pause. Robbie slit open an eye to find Sportacus staring at him, his mouth open.

Well, that was…odd. "What?"

"You have apples."

"So?"

" _You_ have apples, in your kitchen."

Annoyed and bewildered, Robbie managed to pry both eyes open, "I thought you liked apples."

Sportacus gave a weak laugh. "I do! I do, I...I love apples." Before Robbie could ask then what the heck was the problem, Sportacus had captured his mouth in a kiss that was far too eager for the hour, morning breath and all. Not that Sportacus tasted sour, of course he wouldn't, his mouth was as sweet as always, teeth grazing Robbie's lower lip, nipping at the tip of his tongue.

He peppered little kisses all over Robbie's face, always returning to his mouth. So much for sleeping. Tired as he was, it was difficult not to appreciate Sportacus's enthusiasm. In between kisses, he muttered low snatches of sentences, "I love...love, I love apples. I...love…"

Well, if he'd know apples would get him this, he'd have bought them ages ago.

All thoughts of apples fell away when Sportacus settled astride him, bare as the day he was born or hatched or whatever Elves did. Leaving didn't seem to have gotten past the getting out of bed stage and Robbie was very grateful for it. It made it easy to palm the bare curves of his backside, scrape his nails lightly up Sportacus's back and feel him shudder.

Those kisses took on an edge of frantic and Robbie winced as teeth grazed his chin, his collarbone. He didn't bother with even a token protest because at the end of the day, Sportacus had been right. He did like it, he wanted more, wanted the shadow of a bruise to linger as proof this wasn't some sugar-induced fantasy. 

"Can I have you?" Sportacus asked urgently. He was scattering kisses and bites over Robbie's chest through his pajamas, leaving damp, dark crescents against his shirt.

"You already had me," Robbie swallowed thickly and yes, he could do that again, remembered the hot stretch of Sportacus inside him, remembered how good it had felt.

A low laugh dusted against his belly. "Can I have you like you had me? Can I have you inside?"

Oh, right, and Robbie flushed a little, remembering what he'd said that night, "I…you could—"

Fingers pressed against his lips, Sportacus looming into sight. His expression was gentle, serious, "Don't say yes for me, Robbie, say it if you want it. You can tell me no."

Ridiculous. Robbie rolled his eyes and caught Sportacus's hand in both of his own, kissing the fingertips against his mouth before pulling them away, "I am perfectly capable of deciding what I want. But you like answers, so yes, we can. I want to."

In lieu of a bedside table, Robbie had gone for little pockets that hung along the side of the mattress. Ostensibly for remote controls but they worked perfectly well for condoms and lubricant, both of which Robbie retrieved himself. After hearing even a little about Sportacus's sexual exploits elsewhere in the world, Robbie was not eager for him to see that both were brand new and unopened, and really, expedited shipping was a wonderful thing

Robbie opened the little bottle and hesitated, "I should—"

Sportacus stole it away, "Let me, just this time."

It might have been worth a protest just for Robbie to point out he was not a complete innocent, thank you. Might have been, but why protest when he could lay back and watch Sportacus slick his own fingers, watch him reach back and press them, shining and wet, into his own body. Robbie swallowed hard and watched, good heavens, that was obscene, Sportacus was rocking back on his own fingers, his head tipped back and his mouth open. He was a lot quicker with himself than he had been with Robbie, only a brief stretch before he stole the condom. He didn't do much more than tug Robbie's pajama pants down past his hips and then Robbie was treated to the completely surreal experience of Sportacus matter-of-factly rolling a condom onto him, along with one quick stroke with his slick hand. 

Sportacus straddled him and sank back, eyes closed and oh, he was tight inside, tight and hot, and no, Robbie was not an innocent but this didn't feel anything as simple as just sex. Not the feel of Sportacus slowly easing down, opening up to him, and the little sounds he made, urgent and low. Finally, he settled all the way down and Robbie rested his shaking hands on Sportacus's thighs.

"Is this all right?" Sportacus asked, thickly, and Robbie had been wrong before. Here Sportacus looked like a god. Gleaming with sweat, that perfect chest heaving as he gasped in breaths and even in the dim light, Robbie could see glints of gold in his hair. 

Beautiful and Robbie only realized he'd said it aloud when Sportacus shuddered, his hips rocking convulsively. "Is it…Robbie, please, I need to move, _please_!"

"Yes, yes," Robbie said, urgently and he could not lie here and listen to him beg, he couldn't, this would be over in two seconds. "You wanted to have it, take it, you beautiful, damn…ah!" His voice broke, shattering as Sportacus moved on him, all lithe muscle, thighs flexing beneath Robbie's grip as Sportacus rose and fell above him.

"Oh," Sportacus moaned, "Oh, you feel so good, you're inside me, I love it, I—" Both of his hands close over Robbie's wrists, holding just this side of too tight, and the glorious feel of being inside Sportacus was almost eclipsed by the sight of him, all his weight balanced on his knees as he rode Robbie's cock. 

It wasn't as brief as two seconds but orgasm was still creeping its way up Robbie's spine entirely too fast. With a rough tug, he pulled his hand free and took Sportacus in hand, gripping tight and urging him along. 

Oh, the _sounds_ he could make. Rough and snarling, eyes blazing open, and Robbie watched as Sportacus shook, felt him go blissfully tighter inside as he came over Robbie's chest, stripes his pajama top with gleaming white.

"Sportacus," Robbie choked out, straining against him, riding out his own pleasure, white-hot sensation filling him to the brim, too much, too good, and Robbie collapsed back on the bed with shaky limbs and gasping breaths. 

He hissed as Sportacus eased off of him, still excruciatingly sensitive, but didn't protest as Sportacus fussed over him. If he wanted to handle clean up duty that was fine by Robbie. He drowsed, only distantly aware of hands on him, easing off his pajamas and he heard the clunk of them dropping down the laundry chute. He woke a little to the feel of the mattress dipping next to him, the blankets lifting, and a cool body settling next to his own.

This one time, he allowed Sportacus the honor of being the big spoon for the simple reason that Robbie didn't want to move. An arm settled over him, one broad hand settling low on his belly.

"I thought you were hungry," Robbie mumbled, more asleep than not.

A soft kiss pressed beneath his chin. "The apples will still be there later."

So they would. Robbie drifted back to sleep. He woke again far later, alone, to a paper airplane on the bed next to him, and when he unfolded it to read, he couldn't even be upset. Not when he could almost hear Sportacus saying in dry tones he thought it would be easier to leave this time without waking him and that he would surely see him again soon in the midst of a new plot.

Robbie rubbed a thumb over his name, smudging the pencil, and considered. A new plot. 

Now there was an idea.

* * *

The public records in Lazytown were, in a word, an utter nightmare. Not that Robbie was at all surprised by this. With the people running this place, along with own tendency to…ahem…cause slightly troublesome issues, he supposed he should be lucky there were any records at all. 

Robbie was working his way more or less methodically through the third filing cabinet, muttering increasingly inventive curses beneath his breath, when he heard the door open. He very nearly slammed the cabinet shut and fled, only just catching himself. These were public records; he wasn't actually doing anything wrong or illegal, this time. 

He was half-expecting to see a blue Elf come striding over, disapproval all over his face although how this could be construed as trouble, Robbie had no idea. It was more of a surprise to see it was the Mayor and, well, his expressions never seemed to get far from cheerful befuddlement. 

Robbie decided ignoring him was the best course of action and resumed flipping through the yellowed files. It was a shame the Mayor didn't seem inclined to return the favor. 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Rotten," Meanswell said, cordially enough. Robbie grunted in reply and didn't look up. "It's good you're here, Stephanie wanted me to speak to you."

"I'm sure she did," Robbie drawled. Property tax forms from twenty years ago, did they really need to keep all this trash? "And what did she want you to talk to me about?"

"Well, she—"

"If you need an invention, consultations start at one hundred dollars an hour, plus expenses."

"No, no, no," the mayor huffed out, already flustered, but he rallied, "It's about Sportacus. Now, it's no secret you've been trying to get him to leave town—"

Robbie sighed inwardly. Of course it was about Sportacus. "I already told your niece that being mean isn't a crime."

"Not normally," Meanswell agreed, "But sometimes people in relationships can get…" He hesitated before adding delicately. "…hurt. And that is."

He supposed that denying they were in a 'quote' relationship 'unquote' would just draw out this agony. "Are you insinuating that I could somehow hurt him?" Robbie let out a harsh laugh; he'd always thought the mayor was a fool but this was even more idiotic than expected. "Even better, you think he'd let me?"

For all that he was a fool, the look Meanswell gave Robbie was surprisingly shrewd. "I couldn't say. Do you?"

A snarled denial hovered on the tip of his tongue, even as Robbie imagined it. He couldn't picture Sportacus raising a hand to a fly but someone raising a hand to him, someone who didn't understand him or what he was, especially in those other cities in the world…that he could imagine all too easily and it made a curl of nausea rise in his gullet. 

"I take your point," Robbie muttered. "But I'm certainly not going to hurt him. Not intentionally."

The Mayor nodded. "I didn't really think you would," he hummed out a pleased sigh that turned into a frown. "What are you looking for in here, anyway?"

Again, it was instinct for Robbie to snarl out something along the lines of, none of your business; instead, he swallowed it down and reluctantly told him. To his bemused surprise, Meanswell lit up and very quickly located the very file Robbie was looking for, offering it up with a pleased smile when Robbie quietly thanked him.

Maybe there was a very small reward for the occasional politeness. 

Maybe.

* * *

The problem with Sportacus was that for all his sleek, modern airship with all its little toys, he was still a caveman in terms of communication. Aside from purposefully falling out of a tree or throwing something at one of the little brats playing soccer nearby, Robbie didn't have much of a way to contact him. 

Would it kill Sportacus to get a cell phone?

Forgoing injury to himself or the kids, the next best thing to use as bait was some kind of sport, so despite his lack of interest, Robbie sat down on one of the benches and watched the soccer game with lackluster attention. The afternoon sun was lovely and warm, and despite the childish laughter and shouts nearby, Robbie found himself drowsing. 

He sank down to lie on the bench and slept, and it was only a hand gently rubbing his back some time later that drew him groggily awake. 

"Hmnph?" Robbie mumbled, yawning and sitting up. 

"Good afternoon!" Sportacus grinned at him, hopping up on the bench to crouch by Robbie's feet. "Did you have a good nap?"

Robbie squinted up at the sun, which was a fair distance further in the sky. "Think so."

The children had moved on from soccer and were now playing something that seemed to involve flags and some sort of racket. Robbie did not want to know; at least they were further away.

Sportacus might have been playing with them, he supposed, it was hard to tell when he'd been exerting himself. He did seem to have a healthy flush going on, cheeks pink and his eyes shining, and all of that together was making something warm and uncomfortable settle in his chest. It reminded him of what he had stuffed into his vest pocket.

Careful, Robbie withdrew the photo and thrust it roughly at Sportacus. Probably he should say something past a muttered, "Here," but, well, Sportacus was always claiming to know him. Probably, he would understand. Probably. 

Sportacus took it, moving to sit properly on the bench and his confusion shifted to shock as he looked at it. "Robbie...where did you find this?"

"The town hall," Robbie shrugged. "I figured they must have a picture somewhere. He left town when I was still a kid, but I thought maybe you knew him."

The photograph was yellowed with age but still relatively clear. The pose was familiar, standing straight and strong with hands on his hips, and so was the outfit, although it was emblazoned with a #9. A few children stood or sat around him, caught in a moment of laughter. Robbie was not one of them. 

"Knew him?" Sportacus let out an oddly watery laugh, running a gentle finger down the photo. "This is my father."

There was some interesting information. "Is he, indeed?"

Sportacus nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the photo. "I haven't seen him in a long time." When he looked back up at Robbie, his eyes were damp. "You got this for me?"

"Of course I did!" Robbie snapped. Not that he'd known the other fool was Sportacus's father, he'd assumed perhaps a mentor or even a friend. "Isn't that what people in these...things do? Get stuff for each other?"

Sportacus caught his face in both hands, the photo falling into his lap, and cut him off with surprisingly sweet kiss. Right here in the middle afternoon, in the middle of the _park_ , with all the children playing not far away. A second gentle kiss, a third, and then Sportacus eased back enough to let his head fall forward and rested his forehead against Robbie's. "You don't have to get me anything, Robbie. But I love it when you do."

Robbie snorted and drew away. But not too far. "You can say it you know."

That got him a confused look and Robbie sighed. 

"You can stop dancing around the word, surrounding it with apples and pictures and just say it," Robbie grumbled. "I won't run away."

To give him credit, Sportacus didn't pretend to misunderstand. But his smile faltered, his gaze dropping back to his lap where he fidgeted with the photo. "I think...not today."

He looked back up at Robbie, eyes pleading for understanding, and just then it hit Robbie with the force of a floodgate breaking.

"The mayor was right," Robbie said slowly. Sportacus brow furrowed in confusion but Robbie understood all too clearly. Meanswell hadn't meant anything about Robbie hurting Sportacus physically. He'd been implying something else entirely. "I could hurt you."

The confusion cleared, a little, and Sportacus offered him a weak smile. "I hope you won't."

"I can't promise," Robbie said, but with a sudden, painful fervor he wished he could. 

"I know. But maybe try?" Sportacus gave him a brighter smile. "I'll try not to hurt you, too."

 _You already do_ , Robbie didn't say. A sudden shout rose from the field, followed by laughter, and Robbie had no idea what the children were playing, but he saw the way Sportacus's eyes flicked over to them. Carefully, Robbie reached over and plucked the photo away from Sportacus. 

"Go play with the brats," Robbie told him, and gave him a nudge when Sportacus hesitated, caught between uncertainty and eagerness. "I'll be right here when you get back. I promise," he added, impulsively, and it was worth it to see Sportacus's eyes light up. 

"Promise," Sportacus echoed and he stole a last quick kiss before darting away, flipping over to the children to join the game. 

Robbie looked at the picture again, at young Bessie and Milford, at the other children sitting and laughing around their hero, before he stuffed it back into his vest. It was still afternoon, plenty of time for another nap, but Robbie didn't lie back down. Instead, he propped both elbows on the back of the bench and watched another group of children playing with their hero, all of them laughing and shouting. 

If someone snapped a picture just then, Robbie still wouldn’t be in it. But when Sportacus caught him watching, he waved cheerfully, his smile as warm and welcoming as the sun. 

Robbie waved back. He supposed Sportacus could be his hero, too, for at least a little while. He sat on the bench, as promised, watching them play, and waited for Sportacus to come back to him. 

As promised.

-finis-


End file.
